


I had him right there where I wanted him

by playlistmusings



Series: Post-tQoN fics [4]
Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: (physically), F/M, Fluff, Jude and Cardan fight, POV Alternating, Sexual Tension, ambiguous time period, and Cardan will do anything for her, because that's Jude's love language, no tQoN spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playlistmusings/pseuds/playlistmusings
Summary: Jude is bored and wants someone to spar with. The only thing stopping her from having a sparring partner is that, Cardan sucks at fighting. Luckily, Jude doesn't mind teaching her husband how to defend himself and Cardan doesn't mind the way Jude teaches him.---Ambiguous time period, could be set during a slightly AU TWK if Cardan and Jude had their shit together and Jude wasn’t exiled or post TQoN with pretty much no changes to canon.(also posted on my tumblr)
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar, background the Roach/the Bomb
Series: Post-tQoN fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163366
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	I had him right there where I wanted him

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration from a tumblr ask from my dear friend Braia:  
> Knife Wife Jude teaches Cardan basic self defense (he is very bad at it). 
> 
> This kind of got a mind of it's own but I think it's still pretty on brand for these two. Very loosely edited, so constructive criticism is very welcome. 
> 
> Also find me on tumblr:  
> https://playlistmusings.tumblr.com/
> 
> (title from a vague line in the fic but also very loosely from the beginning of Better Than Revenge by Taylor Swift)

Cardan felt oddly at peace in the training room of the Court of Shadows. He knew he probably shouldn’t, after all he was surrounded by more weapons than he could count and some of the most gifted and terrifying warriors and spies he’d ever met. But one of those warriors was his wife and everyone else had, at one point or another, actively worked to keep alive and on the throne, so perhaps the peace was justified. So, he sat in a chair off to the side, pieces of parchment in his hands that he read through whilst desperately trying to ignore the group of spies that was taking turns sparring each other. He was just flipping a letter over to read the back—because reports on crop growth were _so interesting—_ when a knife flew past his face and thudded in the wall. Ripped from his thoughts, Cardan looked up and towards the person who threw the knife—of course it was Jude, who else would risk even nicking the High King? —and gave her a sardonic glare, daring her to let a second knife already held between her fingers go flying.

“Come on, Cardan! At least _try_ to spar with us!” Her voice rang out as she grinned at him, as if all it took for Cardan to give up was a taunt and a smile (which, to be fair to Jude, usually that _was_ all it took).

“I have important work to do, you know, as _High King of Elfhame_ I actually have to do things.” He held her gaze, shifting from a glare to a equally sarcastic smile, the type of smile that usually made her jut out her chin and glare at him—the smile that usually followed some offhand comment meant to rile her up and preceded Jude muttering something about how insufferable or intolerable or in- something Cardan was before she crashed her lips into his. But here, in the training room, surrounded by people, Cardan was pretty certain she wouldn’t do anything—after all she always seemed off when publicly showing affection. And if they only kissed or hugged when they were alone, it didn’t really bother Cardan, if anything it made moments like these, where he could taunt her like he did back when they were in school—minus the part where she thought he was genuinely trying to kill or main her—all the more fun. So, as Jude glared, obviously trying to come up with some clever retort, Cardan’s smile softened, turning genuine for only a second before he forced himself to focus on the papers sitting in his lap.

“Ah, yes, High King Cardan _has to focus_ on his work, because _he’s so important_ , and does _nothing but focus on work_ …” Jude muttered half formed insults under her breath while walking to rip her knife from the wall. And if someone saw Cardan smiled wider when he heard her, then he would claim that he was just happy that Elfhame was having a good farming season and it had nothing to do with his wife.

* * *

Jude was exhausted. The good kind of exhausted, though, where you could feel your muscles work through every movement, growing stronger as you pushed them. Yet, all of her sparring partners were apparently _too exhausted_ to continue training. One by one, over the course of an hour or so everyone had made their way out of the room, first it was the Roach claiming he had somewhere to be, then it was the Bomb claiming she had a meeting with someone— acting like no one knew that _someone_ was the Roach—and then, all too quickly, it was only Cardan and Jude in the room. This would have been a welcome change, if Cardan weren’t more focused on those _God damn papers_ than Jude. She had been trying to get him out of that chair for hours, taunting him and “accidentally” losing grip of her weapons and strategically letting them fly past his head in an attempt to break his focus on his work and look up at _her_ instead.

So now she stood in the middle of the room, exhausted and exasperated, trying to think of some way she could get Cardan’s attention. At this point it was less about the way he seemed to have a stick up his ass and wouldn’t interact with anyone else, or her wanting her husband to pay attention to her, or anything like that, Jude was filled with determination and spite, if he would work so hard to not pay attention to her then she would refuse to let him do anything other than focus on her.

She pulled her arm back before swinging it forward, letting the thin throwing knife slip out of her fingers and spin through the air past Cardan’s ear and into the wall behind him, it was the second time she had done this today, but luckily that didn’t mean it surprised Cardan any less. His eyes snapped up to hers before wandering around the room briefly, as if just noticing that they were alone in the training room. His gaze latched onto hers right as she started stalking towards him, Nightfell swinging in one hand, a random dagger in the other. 

“What are you up to?” His voice was uneasy, but just barely, his discomfort hiding in the waver his voice had as he ended his question—he was trying to hide his discomfort in the way that only Jude could see through.

She kept walking toward him, stopping an arms-length away before holding the dagger out to him, “Take it.”

Cardan looked at her face, as if searching for a reason for her actions, before gingerly taking the dagger from her left hand.

* * *

Cardan held the dagger in his right hand, feeling its weight, trying not to slice a finger on the blade. Jude was certainly up to something, he couldn’t figure out what quite yet, perhaps she was going to make him spar her or perhaps she had snapped and was going to kill him here in the Court of Shadows, tucked away where only a select few people could find his body. However, while Cardan was left wondering _what_ was going to happen, he was pretty certain it was happening because he had been very purposefully ignoring her all afternoon.

“Stand up.” Her chin was jutting out again, and Cardan could see her jaw clench as he took a few seconds before sighing and setting the parchments on the floor and standing, making a show of every action he made.

“So, now are you going to tell me what’s happening?” Something in Jude seemed to momentarily soften as he looked her in the eye plainly, with no pretense or sarcasm, just searching for an answer in her face.

“I’m bored and you’re here and I’m going to spar you,” Her voice made it clear that even if he wanted to ignore her, she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

“Well, my Queen, that would be a wonderful idea if I were a partner worth sparring.” Cardan thought back to days spent attempting to refine what few combat skills he had, forcing himself out of his memories before they could go down a dark path consumed by Balekin’s taunts and servants whipping his back.

“Then, I don’t know, I’ll…” Jude turned on her heel, exasperation coloring her voice as it faded off, “I’ll just have to teach you. I know you can fight a little, so I’ll teach you, I mean it makes sense for you to at least be able to try to protect yourself.”

Cardan once again forced his thoughts away from other _lessons_ he’d been forced into, knowing that he couldn’t hide the discomfort Jude’s words brought on.

“Oh, I don’t mean to—I won’t make you, if you don’t want to, it’s fine, I forgot about all that. It’s okay, Cardan, I’m fine,” Jude stuttered her apology as her mind drifted to the time she hid under a table in Balekin’s house.

Cardan’s heart softened, the realization that despite all of Jude’s rough edges, she’d do anything before hurting someone she loved sunk in as he said words he didn’t know if he’d regret, “No, it’s fine, let’s do this. Teach me to fight, your Majesty.”

* * *

Jude nodded, still feeling guilty for forgetting why Cardan didn’t enjoy endless sparring sessions like she did. She quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, trying to take Cardan’s reassurance, after all he couldn’t lie to her even if he wanted to, so it had to be fine, _right?_

“Okay, let’s start with defensive positions, then.” Jude approached Cardan, loosely holding Nightfell in her hand before swinging directly towards Cardan’s side, stopping inches away from his arm that did nothing but flinch. _Dear God, he really has_ no _self-preservation, no wonder he always got into messes._ Jude groaned a little before looking at Cardan and asking, “So, in that scenario do you _really_ just want to lose an arm?”

He shook his head, “Obviously not, but what am I supposed to do? You have a whole sword and I have, what? A tiny knife?”

“You could at least _try_ to block me. Like, here, like this.” Jude moved towards Cardan and lifted his harm and hand to make a motion so that his dagger would intercept the path of her blade. And so, it went on like that, for what felt like years. Jude slowly showing Cardan a motion, working with him until he could do it cleanly, eventually moving on from defensive maneuvers to offensive jabs and slashes. _It was progress, however clumsy and unpracticed his movements were, at least it was progress._ Jude kept telling herself it was unreasonable to expect Cardan to perfect anything she showed him but something in her ached for him to understand _faster_ , to understand _more_.

* * *

Cardan had been trying to execute the same movement for about fifteen minutes now. Jude kept claiming he was going wrong when he did _something wrong_ with his wrist, _right there after you reach out_ , but he still had no clue as to fix it. And while Cardan could see the merit in knowing how to defend oneself, he did have an entire legion of knights whose sole job was defending him, so _he didn’t have to_ and on top of that he had a wife who was more than happy to ride off into battles for him, so there was really nearly no scenario he’d need to know any of this stuff. The last time he could even think of getting attacked was when Jude held a knife to his throat in Dain’s study—which to be honest, he didn’t exactly mind repeating that event. But alas, despite all the repetition and scolding and sweat, Cardan loved seeing the way Jude’s face lit up whenever he mastered a movement or successfully blocked an attack. Something about Jude just seemed _right_ when she fought, like this was what she was meant to do. Her eyes had a fire in them, and her body moved with a practiced ease that Cardan was only now noticing, when for once he could focus on her and her movements without a threat looming over every action. It was intoxicating, seeing someone so in their element, seeing _Jude_ so clearly doing exactly what she was trained to do, exactly what she _loved_. Even now, when she wasn’t doing anything other than glaring at his arm—as if that was the solution to his problem—there was something in her that made it clear that she wasn’t actually mad or upset, she was purely focused and full of intent.

Cardan made the same movement for possibly the hundredth time, which elicited a drawn out and dramatic groan from Jude as she threw her head back in exasperation, “I _keep telling you_ , not _that_ , you need to—” Jude groaned again before stepping behind Cardan and reaching around his body to grab his wrist, “You need to do _this.”_ Cardan felt sparks erupt across his skin as her breath hit the back of his neck, trying desperately to focus on the way her hand twisted his wrist and pushed out his arm and _not_ on the way he could feel a ghost of her lips right above his shirt or the way his tail was flicking back and forth, wanting to reach out and around one of her legs, trapping her against him.

After a few repetitions, Jude stepping back, and Cardan didn’t know whether to thank her or beg her to come back. He tried the movement again and this time he thought Jude was going to kill him with the glare she shot at his hand. He tried to shrug, and she groaned again.

“Perhaps this is a signal that we should stop?” Cardan offered, hoping that Jude would take him up on his offer and he could stop pretending like he even knew what scenario he would need use this movement in.

“Perhaps.” Jude echoed, looking lost in her thoughts, no doubt still trying to think of some way she could help fix his issue.

Cardan walked over to a table and placed the dagger he had been using next to a variety of other knives before he was interrupted.

“You know what? No. That’s not happening. I taught you all of this so that we could spar, so before we’re done, we’re going to spar.”

As Cardan turned to face Jude, readying some response about that being unnecessary and there always being tomorrow, he was faced with a fearsome sight, Jude standing just behind him, Nightfell drawn and a blaze in her eyes. His throat bobbed as he reached to pick up the dagger just in time for Jude to make her first strike.

Cardan didn’t know how he blocked it, his arm instinctively reaching out while his wrist twisted so he could stop her blade from slicing his side.

“ _Of course,_ now _you get it_ ,” Jude’s voice filled the training room as she stepped back, so that they could spar in the middle of the room.

As soon as Cardan reached Jude, he knew he made a mistake. She was relentless, all offense and power and grace, and it felt like all he could do was struggle to hold onto his dagger and hope he wouldn’t get cut.

She swung her sword around in mesmerizing arcs before reaching out to continue her attack, stepping towards Cardan so she could push him away from the center of the room. Cardan knew he should lash out, at the very least he should find a way to move away from _exactly where Jude wanted him to be_ , but he couldn’t find any openings. She was unstoppable, a force of nature pushing against him and forcing him to use every ounce of training he had just to stay in one piece.

As soon as Cardan felt one of his feet hit the wall behind him, he knew he was done for. He was trapped and definitely the worse swordsman—knifeman? —and he knew he couldn’t get out of the reach of Nighfell or block Jude’s attacks forever. Jude’s eyes lit up when she saw Cardan freeze, using the opportunity to let her sword clatter to the floor, take Cardan’s dagger from his hand, and push him against the wall, holding the knife to his throat, all in one maneuver.

Cardan breathed heavily, looking into Jude’s eyes hoping she understood this was him surrendering.

“Come on Cardan, how do you ever expect to win a real fight if you can’t even stop me from unarming you?” Jude’s voice was a little breathless, despite the lack of sweat on her body and the steady heartbeat Cardan could feel through her chest and she pinned him to the wall.

He grinned.

* * *

Jude suddenly felt unsure of her victory. Yes, she had a weapon poised in the perfect position for a killing move. Yes, she had him trapped. Yes, she had the upper hand.

But then his hands were on her waist and he gave her one of his _stupid_ smiles, the one that she didn’t know how to respond to, and he whispered, “Come on, love, we both know I’m already winning in this situation.”

Jude forced herself to keep her grip on the dagger, but she knew he could feel her pulse stutter then speed up, and suddenly she didn’t know whether to curse or thank her past self for deciding the best way to beat Cardan was to use her body to trap him against the wall. It felt oddly reminiscent of their first kiss, where she thought she had him exactly where she wanted him, but then he somehow gained all the control. As his hands pulled her even closer—she didn’t even realize that was _possible_ —she resigned herself to losing just this once and let her hand fall down to her side and the dagger slip from her grip.

His lips were on her jaw first, making her head fall back with a groan as he worked his way down her throat. Jude felt a little stupid for letting herself give into Cardan’s charms so easily—was that really all it took? A cocky comment and a touch? –but quickly pushed thoughts of stupidity and regret out of her mind as he took her face in his hands so he could crash their lips together. It was a breathless mess of teeth and lips and tongue, as their hands pulled on each other, trying to get closer, _closer._ Jude felt like she was making up for that first kiss, where Cardan was drunk, and she was confused, and everything was hiding behind too many falsities and lies to even begin to unravel the truth about either of their feelings. But now—when she had Cardan in her arms and her feelings sorted and a ring on her finger—she felt like this was what that first kiss could have felt like, in some different life where things weren’t as complicated.

All the thoughts of the past were quickly shut out as Cardan flipped them around, so that Jude’s back was against the wall, and lifted her up so that he could kiss her deeper. Jude felt lost in him, she knew she must be doing something, after all Cardan was gasping into her mouth, but she couldn’t take her focus away from Cardan and his hands and his lips long enough to even think about where her hands were. As Cardan pulled his lips from hers, leaving Jude making a rather undignified noise in the back of her throat—a noise she would most definitely deny making if asked about it at a later date—he panted and held a finger to her lips.

“Jude.” Cardan’s voice was rough and low. “Jude, I think someone is coming in.”

As soon as he said the words, Jude could hear voices and nearing steps through the door. She groaned, letting her face fall onto Cardan’s shoulder before unwrapping her legs from around him and walking back to where she had dropped Nightfell. As the door opened to reveal the Bomb and the Roach, Jude turned back to Cardan who had just barely reached the dagger he had been using all afternoon, she grinned dangerously before asking, “Want to spar again?” 


End file.
